


Odd Choice of Dying Words

by wordsbymeganmichael



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Father Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsbymeganmichael/pseuds/wordsbymeganmichael
Summary: Based on this post: https://twitter.com/_ChristinaRoss/status/1104479303759208448Emma is reminded of a terrible first date. Thankfully, her bartender has a son who would be the perfect fit for her.





	Odd Choice of Dying Words

“You have got to be  _ fucking  _ kidding me,” she mumbles, running one hand through her hair while the other manages to  _ not  _ slam her phone down on the bar hard enough to shatter it. She was enjoying her night alone, slowly sipping on her second glass of whiskey while she scrolled through Instagram when the notification popped up:  _ “New email: Walsh Oz. Subject: Notes from Our Date, 9 February 2019” _

At first, she wasn’t going to open it. Honestly, she didn’t even remember Walsh at first, just another meaningless name added to the list of incredibly shitty dates she’d been on in the last few months. She’s not sure what it is about her that seems to draw in assholes recently. 

Okay, not recently. Her whole damn life, actually. Never, once, has she been in a relationship with a decent man, and the one person she thought was decent turned out to be the worst of them all. 

_ That’s the last place her head needs to be right now _ , she tells herself. 

Looking down at the words on her phone once more, she finishes the rest of the glass and sets it down on the bar, perhaps a little harder than she anticipated, and she doesn’t fail to notice that she’s caught the attention of the bartender, a rough-looking older man with short grey hair, a trimmed grey mustache, and a dot on his right cheek that Emma originally thought was a mole, but has since realized is a small black heart tattoo. 

“Another?” he asks, and she knows the answer should be no, but there is something about the man’s sweet smile that makes her say yes. When he comes back with the bottle, giving her a  _ bit  _ more than a single shot, he leans against the bar, his still-toned forearm pressed against the shining marble. “Something the matter, sweetheart?” 

She shouldn’t tell him. There is absolutely no reason that she should burden this wonderful older man with her problems. But sitting here, drawing her refilled glass back into her hand, that’s exactly what she wants to do. She taps the edge of the glass against the bar a few times, pursing her lips for a moment before she turns her eyes back up to the bartender. 

“A few weeks ago, I went on this date with this total idiot that I met online, his name was Walsh. He was the rudest man I’ve ever met, the worst conversationalist, and it became the absolute worst date I have ever been on. So bad that I completely forgot about it, until about three minutes ago, when the bastard emailed me a list of things I did wrong on the worst date of my life.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, in absolute disbelief of her words, and she sets her phone down on the bar to show him. He does not read the whole thing, but enough to get the point, his eyes wide with incredulity when they turn back up to her. “Darling, this man is an insolent sniveling pup and I hope you ignore every single word on this email,” he says, then smiles at her again. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles, pulling her phone back across the bar, and when the bartender walks away, she is so distracted by the words on her screen that she doesn’t realize he has pulled out his phone and is quickly typing out a message on it, peering at her out of the corner of his eye. 

The night passes slowly, the minutes ticking away as songs blasting out of the crackling speakers. Emma has finished her third glass and has moved on to her fourth when she feels someone slide into the seat beside her, the seat that has somehow managed to remain empty throughout the night. Was she just that unappealing, that no one wanted to sit next to her, even in a packed bar? Was it her resting bitch face?

“Rough night, love?” he asks, his voice low and thick with an accent. 

_ Not your love.  _ The words are on the tip of her tongue, her mouth open to say them, but when she turns and looks at the man that has taken a seat next to her, her words stop dead in their tracks. Because there, sitting next to her at the bar, is the most beautiful man she has ever seen. She’s half-tempted to reach out and touch him, make sure that he is real, but when he cocks his eyebrow in response to her silence and her agape expression, she knows that there is no way that he could have come from her imagination. She’s simply just not that good.

“Uh, yeah,” she chokes out finally, choosing this moment to take a sip from her glass only to realize that her hands have started shaking. 

“In need of someone to complain to?”

She should say no, turn him away, tell him to find someone who might actually be interested in him. But she raises her eyes and meets those of the bartender, delivering a drink to the man next to her, and he winks at her, a soft smile on his face — for some reason, the bartender brought this gorgeous man to her, and he has never let her down so far. 

“As a matter of fact,” she says softly, turning on the barstool to face him. “Since you offered, I do have a few things I’d like to get off my chest.”

He takes a long sip of his drink, and for a moment, Emma thinks he might regret his decision to become acquainted with her, but when he sets his glass down and the bar and turns his full attention towards her, all worry melts away. 

“Hit me, love.”

She takes a deep breath, then does exactly that: “A few weeks ago, I went on the absolute worst date of my life. All he did the whole time was talk about himself, save a few questions that I was absolutely not going to answer on a first date. He was an absolute cheapskate, ordered a side salad and a water, then got mad at me when I offered to pay for my own meal. It was terrible, the worst night of my life, and there have been more than enough awful dates. And I forgot about it completely, not even caring to think about Walsh anymore.”

She pauses for a moment, taking another sip of her drink, and she does not fail to notice that his eyes are wide with interest. His blue,  _ blue  _ eyes, a color so piercing that it cannot possibly be natural. 

“Until earlier tonight, when he had the audacity to email me a list of things I could have done better during our date, including my wardrobe, my lack of make-up, and my dinner choice.”

“Are you serious?” 

“Dead serious,” she replies, pulling the email back up on her phone before setting it on the bar between them. “Here, read it in its entirety. It’s terribly poetic, an excellent way to make someone want to go on a second date with you.”

As he reads through it, Emma does the same, overcome by another wave of anger by it as she does so. 

 

_ Hello, Emma.  _

_ A few weeks ago, you and I went on a date, and I figured you were wondering why you hadn’t heard from me yet, so I would like to explain. There were a few things you did on the date that I didn’t much appreciate, and while I apologize if any of them offend you, I think I should let you know what you did wrong. _

 

  * __Your natural dark hair would look so much better with your facial structure, especially if you grew it out more. Long hair is much sexier__


  * _You have such a great body but you wore jeans and a leather jacket? That was a huge turn-off for me_


  * _Your face would have looked much nicer if you used a little bit of make-up. Just a little cover-up, some concealer, some color. Just so I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you._


  * _You seemed a little unsure of yourself the whole night, you should learn to be more confident. Confidence is sexy!_


  * _You ordered a burger. I shouldn’t even need to explain this one, it was just unappetising to watch you eat and you could have gone without that many calories_


  * _Diet Coke would have been a much better choice as well_


  * _You kept ignoring my questions, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about your life but I didn’t expect you to avoid talking at all_


  * _You think I didn’t see you roll your eyes while I was talking? That was incredibly rude_


  * _Even though I told you all about my job and how much money I make you still offered to pay, like you didn’t think I was capable of it, and it made me feel like shit_


  * _I tried to compliment you so many times and you didn’t try to return them even once_


  * _Not to mention I made so many jokes and you didn’t laugh at a single one._


  * _Not only wouldn’t you kiss me, but you jumped back every time I so much as touched you, which tore a large hole in my ego. If you’re going out with someone you should at least let them touch you_


  * _But you also wouldn’t even give me a kiss at the end of the night. I thought we were doing well before that but you really made me question whether I wanted to see you again_



 

_ I will give you a month to take these into account and decide whether you can become the right woman for me. I hope you take these all into consideration in the future.  _

_ \- Walsh _

 

He is silent for a moment, most likely trying to come up with some sort of response, and the one that he finds does not disappoint. 

“Odd choice of dying words,” he says, a radiant smile spreading across his face. 

While Emma understands what he means, she still wants to know  _ why  _ this is what he decided to comment with. “What?”

“Well, obviously, you’re an incredible woman and a bit of a fighter, and if I were you, I would find that absolute tosser and beat the daylights out of him.”

“I appreciate that compliment, but I think the best plan of action is to just stay here and drink until I forget about him again.”

“Would you like a companion?” he asks, and when she turns to him, she is ready to tell him that he is under no obligation to stay here with her. But there is something about the smile on his face and the sparkle in his blue eyes that stops her words again. 

“I would really appreciate that, actually,” she says, a smile of her own growing across her lips. “I’m Emma.” 

“Nice to meet you, darling. I’m Killian Jones.”

 

The night passes as they continue to chat with each other, recalling memories of other bad dates, but Walsh takes the cake — even compared to the woman who asked Killian to come home with her, only to remember as she unlocks her front door that she’s married and has a family. But the end of the night approaches much faster than either of them anticipate, and before they know it, the bartender is announcing last call, only a few patrons left at their seats. 

Emma’s face falls, honestly not ready for the night to end, but Killian just smiles at her, winking as he pushes his barstool away from the counter. “No worries, love. I have an in.” 

Emma has absolutely no idea what he means, but watches as he makes his way around the bar, kissing the bartender on the cheek before grabbing one of the rags. “Hey, pa, I’ll take it from here.”

The man wraps his arm around Killian’s shoulders, squeezing him against him. 

“Thanks, son. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a seat here next to this lovely lady.” When Emma realizes that he is talking about her, she blushes softly, not for the first time that night. The older man smiles widely at her before removing his apron and hanging it on a hook on the wall, coming around the front of the bar to take a seat next to her as Killian begins to sweep behind the bar. 

“I’m Teddy, by the way. I’m hoping that my son provided much better company than that dolt that emailed you earlier.” 

Emma can’t help but smile in return. 

“Did you tell him to come to the bar tonight?”

“You looked like you could use some company, sweetheart, and he’s the only cavalry I have left. I’m hoping that he proved himself to be the perfect gentleman.” 

It may have been the glasses of whiskey that she’s been slowly downing all night, or the sincerity in the man’s eyes, or some mixture of both, but Emma leans closer to Teddy and mutters in his ear, “I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.”

When he turns to face her, his eyes are wide with excitement. “Is that so?” 

Taking another sip from her glass, she nods at Teddy, smiling at him again, and she realizes that she does not want the night to end. 

So it doesn't. Killian offers to walk her back to her apartment, just a few blocks away, and before he can even ask her out on their first date, a joke about making sure it's not the  _ worst  _ of her life on the tip of his tongue, Emma reaches out and grabs him by his leather jacket, pressing her lips against his. 

It is, without a doubt, the best first kiss of her life, simultaneously soft and passionate, and much like that night, she doesn't want it to end. 

When they pull away from each other, it is only enough to keep their foreheads against each other. 

“Come upstairs with me,” she breathes, at the same time he says, “Go out with me.” 

“Okay,” she responds, noticing that he does not respond right away. 

“Emma,” he whispers after a moment, raising his hand to press his palm against her cheek. “I don't — I don't want to rush this.” 

“I've never met anyone like you, Killian,” she says, snaking her arms around his neck, his hands warm against her face and her hip, even through her jacket. “We weren't even on a date and it was one of the best dates I've ever been on.” She leans into his palm. 

“Are you sure, love?” His expression is so serious, so caring, that it sends a chill through Emma's body. 

“I've never been so sure about anything,” she says softly, smiling at him, and he returns it. “Make sure to thank your dad for me, too.” 


End file.
